


A Christmas Slay

by FemailoftheSpecies



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-01-04 10:03:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1079665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FemailoftheSpecies/pseuds/FemailoftheSpecies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What really happened after Willow's spell ended?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> IWRY took place, but when the Powers reversed the day, they missed something. Something Blue occurred as well, but Spike and Buffy did more than snog.  
> Feedback is appreciated.

Buffy was burning, furiously angry and trying to hide it always. Her friends could never know what she had done with Spike, Willow especially because it was _her damned spell_. And Buffy really couldn’t stand one more cookie. Gritting her teeth, she clenched her fists. She had to get control of herself, not think about the hours she spent having sex with a vampire that was decidedly not Angel.

Because they had been in love… and kissing and other things totally inexcusable…not just getting married, which was apparently what Willow’s _will_ had been, so she had no idea why things went as far as they had.

“Oh God,” she whispered and shut her eyes tight, willing away the ghostlike feeling of his barely-warm fingers caressing her feverish skin. “Stop this!” she hissed before one deep breath and then another and she was back on task, searching the basement. After a few minutes, frustration of a different kind crept in, most welcome.

“I can’t find them!” Buffy yelled loudly enough to be heard throughout the house. She found out she had a pretty amazing set of lungs when she destroyed the Gentlemen and thought she might as well use them.

Quick footsteps from above announced her mother at the top of the stairs. “Did you check the corner behind the dryer? Or under the stairs? I really don’t remember where I put them.”

Buffy sighed and marched to the dark abyss, her gaze intent as she scoped the area for spiders. It was weird that she could slay a Sloth demon, no problem, but at the sight of a daddy longlegs she ran screaming like a girl. Well, she was a girl but…

She spotted them and sighed, “Here you are.” Grabbing the two bulky boxes, she headed up.

Joyce was already back in the living room and smiled when she saw her daughter carrying the Christmas decorations. “Oh, thank you, Buffy. Just leave them by the tree.”

“You sure you don’t want any help?” she asked, with a little grunt while gently setting the boxes on the carpet. They weren’t heavy, just a little awkward. She was feeling a little winded these past few days and hoped she wasn’t catching a cold.

“No, you go study for finals, dear. I can handle a little decorating.” She opened one of the boxes and removed an item. “Oh, look, it’s your first ornament.”

Buffy gave her mother an indulgent smile and kissed her cheek. “You show me that one every year.”

“I know,” Joyce nodded, pleased. “And one day, you’ll do the same thing with your children.”

Buffy kept the smile on her face but felt it fading inside. More than likely she would be dead before she ever had a chance to meet a nice guy and have a kid at all. She didn’t want to burst her mother’s bubble though. 

“Children? As in more than one? Just how many grandkids are you expecting anyway?” She slipped her coat on.

“Well, you used to love that show _Eight is Enough_ so…” 

“Oh heck no! You’ve got to be kidding.” Feigning indignance wasn’t too hard as she stomped out the front door, laughter echoing behind her.

Once outside, the cold December air hit her full force. It felt good after the stifling heat her mother always insisted on turning up full blast. Going to the left, she decided to get a quick patrol in before heading to her dorm. She did need to study, that wasn’t a lie, but she was pretty confident that she would pass all her finals so no all-nighters were in her future. She rounded Rancho del Sol and an urge to swing by and pick up Xander along the way occurred to her. With his new job and her Spike avoidance, the two friends had not been spending much time together and she missed him. But her desire to dodge a certain vampire seriously trumped friendship at the moment so Buffy moved right along toward Restfield Cemetery intent on exterminating every evil thing she could get her greedy little slayer hands on. 

 

~~~*~~~

 

Like everything else in Sunnydale, sunrise approached slowly, stealthily. The inky black sky was devoid of stars, a thick cover of clouds obscuring the heavens from view, but in the distant corners the dark velvet was bleeding into something less obscure. In due time, that sparkling hope and brightness of day would arrive and drive all undesirable things into hiding. Meanwhile, Spike sat balanced on a thick branch in a tree overlooking the cliffs that bordered the volatile Pacific, thinking. From his perch, he saw a small group of crabs moving sideways across the sand, reminding him of tiny Gnaltsi demons, and wondered that they’d think of his dilemma. The Gnaltsi not the crabs.

He hated her. That was a given and was the current foundation of his existence. The Slayer was Demon Enemy Number One and his recent experience with her was a prime example. He absolutely hated her. Hated the way she flounced into a room, head up like she was Queen of the Nile. Hated the way she scrunched up her face when he drank blood from that idiot watcher’s cup. Hated the way she flaunted her neck at him, knowing he was helpless to drain her. He had wanted to snap her scrawny neck at that moment, rip her head right off and not even drink. She wasn’t worthy of _that_ honor.

So it was such a monumentally horrid day when he found himself betrothed to the one thing he loathed the most in this world, Angelus aside. He was slapping himself all sorts of silly for not killing that Willow creature when he had the chance. But no worries, the witch was back on his list for sure now, no matter how sweet and understanding she’d been about his little performance issues. There weren’t enough cookies in the world.

She made him kiss a slayer and made him like it. Kissed, seduced and shagged to be more exact, but here atop the cliffs, scenting the salt from the ocean below and exhaust fumes from the 101 behind him, he could allow himself a little room for delusion. It wasn’t like he’d never bedded one before. Nikki was a conquest he would not soon forget, but that was part of the game; the closer he got to them, the sweeter the betrayal. But he never _wanted_ to shag one before. Truthfully, as he thought back, the girl had smelled so much like Him – Angelus – that his dick took the wheel and led poor Spike down this road to his own personal perdition. Laughing, he turned east to check the sky. The slight violet in the horizon didn’t set off his alarms anymore, but he was a ways from town and his deluxe accommodations, better known as _The Basement of Torment_ so he jumped down, landing in a catlike crouch that he knew looked very cool.

Too bad no one was around to appreciate it.

 

~~~*~~~

 

Turned out that evil was a plenty. Buffy had been happily patrolling her second cemetery when she stumbled on some sort of ritual taking place. Instead of dying nice and easily, three purple-scaled demons led Buffy on a merry chase through the woods and then the empty streets for several hours before she finally caught up to them, one at time because they’d split up after the first few minutes, and slayed their ugly asses. Now she was dirty, tired, and checking out the pinkish sky as she strolled toward the campus. This wasn’t exactly how she planned to spend her night, but a demon dead was a demon dead. That was her motto.

Cutting across a middle school parking lot, Buffy came out near the Circle K and stopped. Spike was coming out, carrying a bag that he tossed into his Desoto before sliding in himself.  
She closed her eyes, her post-slayage good mood dissolving into that burning anger that only Spike seemed to induce. She wanted to turn around and go the other way, pretend she hadn’t seen him at all, but she knew he had probably stolen whatever it was in the bag and it was her job to put a stop to that, no matter how distasteful. She marched toward the car and appeared in his headlights just as he slid the gear into drive. He jumped, startled and that made Buffy smile.

“Get out the car, Spike.” She pulled a stake out and tapped it in her palm. Mr. Pointy hadn’t been used all night and was feeling left out.

The vampire rolled his eyes. “What do you want, Slayer?” he asked as he opened his door and slipped out, that boneless grace of his in full force as he tilted his head and looked upward. “I’m on a tight schedule here. As you know.”

“Well then you better return whatever you stole in a hurry,” she told him as she rounded the car to stand in front of him. “Now, Spike.”

He shook his head, jaw ticking. “Didn’t knick a thing. Receipt’s in the bag. Check for yourself.” 

Invitingly, Spike moved slightly to the back of his car, waiting to see if she would get close enough to him to reach inside. Did she think that little of his ability to hurt her now? She was thinking about it though, and after a few seconds, declined. That assuaged his pride a little. 

“Hand it over,” she ordered instead.

Annoyed he did, holding bag out to her so that she had to step closer if she wanted it. When she did, he took an inventory of her with his senses. She didn’t smell like Angel anymore. He was unsure how he felt about that. And her heart was beating faster than normal, skin slightly warm, which he dismissed as her embarrassment about what had happened between them. Truthfully, he shared that feeling as well, 110%.

She was staring at a little slip of paper, obviously peeved to have been wrong. 

“Satisfied?” he asked, his own fiery resentment at having to endure this treatment from a human rising rapidly.

Thrusting the bag at him, she shrugged. “I didn’t catch you today Spike, but I will. I know you’re up to no good. You can’t help it. It’s like you need Evil Anonymous. Hey maybe Angel can be your sponsor,” she suggested with a mean little smile. 

Snatching the bag away from her, Spike grabbed her wrist with his other hand, too fast for her to stop. “And you like that evil. I can smell it Slayer…right between you creamy thighs.” It was a lie, but he was a liar.

Lips pressed tight, she jerked out of his grasp and he laughed as her face turned pink and her hear beat went into double time. Actually, it was more like a real heartbeat and an odd echo. He stopped laughing and stared at her as she hurled her usual threats at him.

“What did you do?” he asked, his voice a whisper.

Confused, she trailed off, frowning. “What?”

“Your heart,” he replied softly and stepped right up to her. “What did you do?” he hissed, grabbing her by her arms. 

“Let me go!” She kicked out, hitting his shin and he released her, dropping to the ground to rub the offended spot. 

“Bloody self-righteous bitch,” he growled, needing to stop her from attacking him, but needing an explanation more. “Why do you have two heartbeats?”

She froze mid-swing.

 

~~~*~~~


	2. Chapter 2

For five days, Buffy managed to avoid Spike. Between studying for finals and the cold she professed to be catching, she didn’t stop by Xander’s and held off on reporting to Giles after her nightly patrols until Friday night. Even her hunts were short and she kept a different schedule, rotating the cemeteries in such a manner that no one would likely guess where she was at any given time.

All in all, it had been a pleasant week. She had done well enough on her tests to not worry about school and Christmas was coming. Time at home with her mother was high on her list of priorities and Spike weirdness was the last thing she wanted to think about.

Sliding her key in the lock, she turned and pushed, quietly entering her home. It was late and she didn’t want to wake her mother despite the fact that in the morning Joyce would make a fuss and chastise her daughter for allowing her to sleep. 

The house was dim, but not as dark as usual, the twinkling lights from the tree lending the rooms a soft glow. She dropped her bags and the pillowcases filled with dirty laundry to the entryway floor and moved into the living room. A small smile crept over her mouth as she observed her mothers work. As usual, she’d make the house into a beautiful winter wonderland in the middle of Southern California. Amazed by the creativity, Buffy wished that she could make things, pretty things, like this. She glanced down at her fingers, rough and covered with scrapes despite the recent manicure. These were the hands that killed thing, destroyed and never created. She wondered what it felt like to _not_ be the end of so much that she touched.

~~~*~~~

 

“Buffy! Come eat!” Joyce called up the stairs. Seconds passed and she got no answer so she rounded the newel post on her way up as the phone rang. Halting, she mumbled, “Who’s calling so early on Saturday?” and reversed directions.

In her room, Buffy listened intently and sighed when her mother retreated. She stared at her date book, the small “P” with a circle around it on December 11th demanded her attention. That was the day her period should have started. It was now a week later and no little back twinges, no bubbly tummy cramps. Just a sickening feeling about something Spike said a few days ago. The last thing he had said before she punched him square in the nose in trotted away, indignant about having wrongly accusing him of stealing.

Two heartbeats.

She had them. So the vampire with super-freaky senses had said. 

Buffy shook her head, wrapping herself up in a comfortable blanket of denial. This wasn’t happening. She wasn’t going to think about it and it would all go away. Her period would start tomorrow and all this speculation would be a distant memory that she could laugh about later with her friends. Well, no, not with them because _they_ were never going to know that Buffy the vampire slayer was indeed the vampire layer. Demons loved to use that little quip, referring to Angel, right before she went about killing them so very completely. But now, having gone there twice, she really had no excuse.

Of course she did. It was all Willow’s fault…except Willow didn’t exactly tell her to go have sex with the fiend. Nope, that was all on her. And Spike. Somehow his evilness must have played a part.

Her door opened a fraction and Joyce peered inside, looking exceptionally bright-eyed and beautiful for a mother over forty. Buffy thought of her own split ends and had a passing surge of jealousy. “Morning, Sleepyhead. I made breakfast. Are you going to eat?”  
The scent of bacon had filtered in seconds after the door opened and Buffy’s stomach rumbled. “Yeah,” she replied as she got up. “I’m starved. I’ll be down in a sec.”

“Well, hurry up before everything gets cold,” she warned and started walking down the hall before turning back. “Oh and Xander called asking if you could vampsit Spike for few days. He’s got to drive his mom up to Modesto to see her sister. Something about skiing and a broken leg?”

“What? Spike!? No!” Instantly panicked, Buffy dashed to catch up. “He can’t come here! What about Giles?”

Joyce gave her a bemused look as they walked down the stairs. “Well, you _are_ the slayer. And it was good of Xander to take on Spike for as long as he has, but a vampire’s really your area of responsibility, Buffy. And Mr. Giles has had his turn.”

“I know but –”

“Frankly, I’m surprised by your attitude. It’s not like you to shirk your duties. Is everything okay? Did you and Spike have a fight?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Right, yes a fight. And he makes me so mad, mom, that I just might stake him if we’re in close proximity for more than a few minutes at a time. Bringing him here’s like a death sentence for the poor, neutered demon. You don’t want that on your conscience, do you?”

Shaking her head, Joyce set a plate loaded with bacon and pancakes on the kitchen table. “Don’t be ridiculous. Underneath that tough exterior, Spike’s a very nice young man. You just need to get to know him better. Besides, I already told Xander yes. He’s bringing him by after sunset.” Fixing Buffy with a stern motherly gaze, Joyce left her daughter and slipped downstairs to start said daughter’s laundry.

With a huge scowl, she stuffed a hunk of bacon in her mouth. “If you only knew just how well I do know him, you wouldn’t be inviting the not-so-nice William the Bloody for sleepovers.”

 

~~~*~~~

 

Buffy glided through the automatic doors at the Walgreen’s, her mission clear. She always felt better when her goals were plain and simple and this one couldn’t be easier – Find pregnancy test. Purchase pregnancy test. Take pregnancy test.

Contagiously cheerful Christmas music flowed from speakers overhead and she hummed along to Jingle Bells despite wanting to remain in a foul mood. The first two phases of her plan were executed without a hitch and now she found herself in the bathroom stall of the Chevron across the street, holding a slightly damp plastic stick while awaiting the results to pop up. Pink for positive and green for negative. She loved pink as a color but never had she want more in her life to see green.

The insanity of what she was doing kept trying to creep into her mind. There was no way a vampire could make her pregnant, but Spike was the only person she’d had sex with…recently that is. 

Parker the Pig popped up, with his big, soulful puppy-eyes that peeled away her clothes without making any promises. _Just fun, right?_ And he hadn’t wanted another _go_ , as Spike had so gleefully reminded her was what Parker had in common with Angel. She trembled, the hurt of it coming back instantly to fire up her anger all over again and she wanted to slay him. For a horrible few seconds, she wished Anya was a demon again so she could exact her revenge, and then felt bad. No one deserved boiled testicles just because Horny Buffy sucked at picking guys.

Minutes passed slowly and it was like watching Xander do algebra as she waited, finally allowing herself to look once the designated time was up. Her eyes filled with tears as the pink plus sign glared at her, defying her desire for any type of normal life…ever. 

She crushed it in her hand and tossed it on the floor before ripping a second stick from the package and shoving down her jeans and thong.

 

~~~*~~~


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Two packages and six tests later, Buffy trudged up the porch steps and entered her home. Sighing, she leaned against the door after closing it, eyes closed. Pink was officially her least favorite color.

“Oh good, you’re home. Where’ve you been?” Joyce rushed up to her, appearing out of nowhere, vampire-style, and Buffy instinctively checked the mirror on the entryway wall. 

“I…uh, I had some errands to run.”

“Well, go clean up, dear. Spike will be here soon.”

Buffy frowned. “Why would I go clean up? Clean up what?” She took a whiff but was sure the demon goop from her last patrol was out of her hair.

“For dinner,” she announced, like it was totally obvious, and flitted away to the kitchen.

Shaking her head, she followed her mother. “What does Spike coming over have to do with dinner? He doesn’t eat people food.” She leaned against the island. “Just people.”

 

“Oh, he likes certain foods. Spicy, garlicky things the most,” she replied, stirring the pot, which Buffy finally recognized as chili. 

This was surreal. Buffy took a deep breath. “Mom, how do you know this stuff?”

Joyce stopped and turned around to give Buffy her full attention. “Spike stops by sometimes.”

“What?!”

“While you’re out doing the slayer thing, he visits. Says he loves my hot chocolate and brownies with the powdered sugar.”

A vision of Spike with a little chocolate mustache made Buffy shudder. “Mom, listen to me carefully,” she pleaded, walking up and taking her mother’s hands in her own, squeezing. “Spike’s not a stray puppy, or some misunderstood kid. He’s a vampire and a killer. Don’t let his charms and that pretty face fool you.”

Joyce squeezed back and let go. “I know what he is, Buffy. But he’s not just that. You should understand.”

The doorbell rang.

“Fine. Dinner. But if he gets out of line, let him eat stake. Get it, stake?” She produced one from the small of her back, grinning.

 

~~~*~~~

 

After the usual amount of bickering between Xander and Spike, like an old, married couple Anya had said, the vampire became spookily polite in Joyce’s presence. And once Xander left, Spike was a total gentleman. Even Buffy baiting him didn’t garner the normal snark and she only ended up being reprimanded by her mother, which totally blew.

While her mother was in the kitchen, cleaning up and dishing dessert, Buffy jumped up and got in Spike’s face.

“What’s up with the Stepford Vamp act?”

Leaning back, Spike scowled. “No act. Your mum’s a lady and deserves to be treated like one. You, on the other hand, are a slutty little tart who’s up the duff. Do you even know who the father is? The unluckiest bloke on the planet, that’s who,” he laughed.

She gaped at him, stunned silent and amazed at how he just went from Victorian and sweet, with her mother, to unsympathetic and malicious in the blink of an eye. The bizarre freakshow of her mom trying to welcome Spike - _Spike_ \- to their home had distracted her from her real problem. But no worries. Leave it to the bleached menace to bring her slamming back to reality.

And he was still laughing at her, like her dilemma was totally entertaining to him.

“Back in my day,” he drawled, “A girl like you…used goods. Not fit to marry, you’d be stuck being some fat nobleman’s mistress just so you wouldn’t starve.”

Fuming, Buffy slapped him, hard, her mouth a thin, angry line. “Oh yeah,” she said through clenched teeth, “then what does that make you…Daddy?” She had a little reality slamming of her own to do.

For a second, he went still, his blue eyes wide and filled with something odd. Before Buffy could place it, he was stony and dead, like a light had gone off. “Now you’re as daft as Dru.”

“Might be. I slept with you.”

His eyes narrowed. “You do know how this works.” He pointed to his crotch. “Cold, dead seed. No sprogs here. Thought Angelus taught you that. Or your watcher,” he mumbled as he stood up, eager to get away from her. One mad chit in his life was just fine.

“Well, apparently your complete freakiness knows no bounds and I had to sleep with probably the only vampire in all the universe that could actually reproduce. I should totally slay you for this,” she told him, pouting and hurt.

He stared at her, still in disbelief, but slowly realizing that she _did_ believe and was going to try to saddle him with her little bastard. Only a sudden surge of self-preservation stopped him from saying so. Instead, he tried reasoning with her. “Look, it was just the one time. I’m sure a looker such as yourself has had a great many suitors…”

“Shut! Up! I have not,” she hissed, then glanced toward the kitchen. “And be quiet.”

Spike rolled his eyes. “Like she won’t figure it out when your belly gets to be the size of a watermelon.”

“You know, it’s no wonder you and Drusilla were together for a hundred years. Anyone putting up with you would have to be insane!” she yelled, cringing when her mom called out asking if everything was alright.

“Yes, Mom! Spike’s still non-dusty!” She glared at the blonde and spoke low. “And if you wanna stay that way, don’t tell her a thing. I need to figure this out.”

“So you’ll be cracking open a book some time this year?” he asked, wondering if she had the balls to go to Giles. 

She went over it in her mind again, the dates and her time with Parker just didn’t add up. She’d already had two periods since then so as much as she wanted to pin it on a human, even a sleazy human, she was stuck with Spike as the only suspect. Yet the thought of revealing to Giles that she and Spike had done the deed, bewitched or not, frightened her. But it couldn’t be avoided. If Spike was able to reproduce then that was something to be documented and studied. She could not let her own embarrassment get in the way of that.

He was watching her, waiting for an answer, serious and bereft of mocking and with a sinking feeling, she realized that he was worried too. 

 

~~~*~~~

 

Giles sang softly, strumming his guitar and struggling with the Fm7 chord each time. “Half my life is books and written pages…live and learn from fools and from sages. You know it’s true, oooooh all these things you do come back …”

Buffy burst in the front door, followed by a blond vampire. “Hey Giles.” She took in the scene with a small grin. “I see you’re reliving the olden days.”

“Yes, well it’s Saturday night and I was too lazy to go get a Christmas tree,” he replied, fighting back his annoyance while getting to his feet. He put on his glasses and focused on Spike. “Why is he here?”

The slayer and vampire glanced at each other. Spike raised an eyebrow. “I’m not telling him.”

Buffy’s shoulders drooped. She never really thought he would, but on the off chance that Spike got chatty she was going to go for it. Looked like he had moments where he was as close-mouthed as Angel was cryptic. She took a deep breath. _In for a penny in for a pound_.

“Remember that spell of Willow’s…”

 

~~~*~~~


	4. Chapter 4

Spike shifted the bag of frozen peas on his eye, trying to get comfortable. He didn’t need it, the bruising and swelling would be gone in a few hours at the most, but he enjoyed the scent of guilt radiating from Giles every time he winced in “pain”. 

“And you’re certain of the dates, Buffy?” She nodded, staring intently at her hands clenched in her lap. He dropped the questioning, not wanting to hear any more about her private life than necessary. He turned to the vampire sprawled on his sofa. “Has anything like this ever happened before?”

Spike shrugged. “Old vamp tales of dhampirs, but I’ve never actually known anyone who’s actually met one.”

Sitting at his desk, Giles took off his glasses and tossed them on the cluttered surface. “Anything you can provide, Spike…names of the vampires involved, times, clans.” He pinched the bridge of his nose as the inevitable sunk into his stressed mind: He’d have to call Angel. The mere thought of speaking to him again, so soon after the Chumash incident, gave him a headache and made his hand throb with sense memory. All he needed was Drusilla popping by to make this holiday season complete. He turned to Buffy who was still avoiding eye-contact. “Please call Willow. We’ll need her help.”

Buffy looked up then. “What? No! We don’t need Willow…or….or anyone else involved. You. Just you. Please, Giles.” 

“Buffy, you’re pregnant. By a vampire it would seem. There are things that we need to do. You need to see a doctor right away to make sure it’s not…”

“Make sure it’s not what? A demon?” 

“Perhaps, Buffy. This… ” He wanted to say thing, but the set of her jaw brought that to a screeching halt. “The embryo may not be entirely human.” When she and Spike protested, he held up his hand. “I’m not saying it isn’t, but it is a possibility and we have to accept that. You need a plan for that. Have you made an appointment with a physician?”

Buffy shook her head. “No, I came here.”

He smiled, his affection for her was unconditional, but that she still sought him out when troubled was comforting to him and made him feel useful. It was especially welcome now, since his life of late had been somewhat less than active. Not that he wished to feel this at her expense, but being there for Buffy was his purpose and opportunities to do that had been lacking.

“Alright. Make the appointment. We also must have Willow’s assistance.” On this he stood firm, giving Buffy _the eye_.

“Fine,” she relented and picked up the phone to dial. “But only Willow. I can’t deal with Xander being all pissed off and trying to kill Spike right now.”

Spike relaxed into the couch, oddly pleased by this current twist in Slayer thinking, pondering ways to milk this fatherhood thing for all it was worth.

 

~~~*~~~

 

Three days later and research had been a bust.

Buffy sat in the waiting room of Dr. Karen Wilson’s office…waiting. Spike was playing up his role as expectant father, pacing. Buffy snagged his coat as he passed and his attention.

“Sit down. You’re making me edgy.” She was grumpy. Willow was originally supposed to accompany her on this little adventure, Buffy was determined to make her friend suffer along with her, but the redhead cancelled at the 11th hour. Stomach flu. Very convenient. 

His eyes narrowed as he considered her, then he flopped into the seat across from Buffy. Despite disliking her, the creature in her belly was his. He put it there and he was growing concerned about its future. Spike blamed that on the demon in him, wanting to possess anything and everything around him. This unwanted feeling was starting to include Buffy and Joyce. That redhead was already on his radar, had been for over a year, yet that was different. He wanted her in a healthy, demonic way. What was truly bothersome was him feeling protective about Xander pain-in-the-ass Harris. It made him hope for a quick reappearance of Angelus, just so the other vampire would kill the boy and relieve him of that weirdness. “What if something’s wrong with it?” he asked.

Buffy stiffened. “I’ll do what I have to do.”

Spike sat up, leaning closer to her, his voice low. “What if nothing’s wrong with it?”

The door to the interior of the office opened and a short women in pink scrubs appeared. “Buffy Summers?”

“Yes.” Buffy stood quickly and shoved the magazine she had been not-reading at the rising Spike. “Stay put. And don’t do anything evil,” she hissed before whipping around with a fake smile plastered on her face. “All ready.”

The nurse smiled back, hers warmer. “Follow me please.”

 

~~~*~~~


	5. Chapter 5

The carton of Phish Food rest precariously on the bed, rocking as Willow scooted to the edge and slid off.

“So…” she started, peering at Buffy while dropping flakes of dried food into her fish tank. “I wanted to try something.”

Arms clutching a pillow, Buffy glanced up from the television. “Try something? Like what?”

“Well, I was thinking, maybe this pregnancy is magical and I could do a spell – ”

“No, no spells,” Buffy cut her off. 

“But I would just be checking to see if you are being affected by any magic. Completely non-intrusive spellage,” she explained with a reassuring smile.

Buffy looked uncertain. “We’ll ask Giles first. I don’t want to do anything that might affect the baby.”

Frowning, Willow sat back down. “You’re gonna have it? Not that you shouldn’t but… I mean, this is a big thing, Buffy. Huge. Motherhood. And Xander’s probably going to stake your baby’s daddy so you’ll end up being a single mom. Not that I won’t help you since it’s kinda my fault, but there’s school and you’ll have to work and …”

“Willow!” she snapped, then felt that hated twinge of guilt because of the Sad Face that Willow pulled out of her arsenal. “Come on. It’s not totally your fault. I didn’t have to…” Buffy was not going to say the words out loud, ever again. “Look, I don’t know what I’m going to do. The doctor could only tell me that everything’s fine and gave me a prescription for some stupid prenatal pills big enough to choke a Vlaja demon.”

They sat in silence for a while, settling back into watching _The Nutcracker_ and Buffy started in on the ice cream again when Willow spoke up and asked the thing that had been on her mind. “How’s Spike taking it?”

Buffy shrugged. “I don’t know. He can be a pretty strange. He’s probably bragging about it to all his demon buddies.” She flopped back on the mattress, exasperated. “God, I’m going to have to kill them all.”

 

~~~*~~~

 

Slipping a stake into the small of his back, Giles approached his front door. The fact that someone had actually rung the bell let him know it wasn’t one of the children. He eyed the crossbow behind the door to be sure it was loaded and gazed into the peephole. 

Shocked, he froze, only moving again when the knocking started.

“Yes, yes…” he muttered and opened the door. “Angel, what a surprise.”

The vampire stood there, all in black trying to look less enormous and failing. “Hello Rupert. May I come in?”

He stared at him for a long few seconds and stepped back to allow him in. Angel took a tentative step, relaxing when he was able to cross over unimpeded. Giles motioned for him to continue further and closed the door behind them.

“Was there another vision?” he asked.

Angel shook his head. “No, nothing like that.”

Giles was confused. “Then why are you here?” Speaking to Angel on the phone had been traumatic, but he got through it for Buffy’s sake. Asked the hard questions and told her one-time lover things he, justifiably, did not wish to know. Seeing him again was more that Giles was prepared to stomach. For his part, Angel appeared suitably remorseful, but Giles took little comfort in that. 

“I’m here about this …thing with Buffy and Spike.”

Giles sighed. “Angel, there is no _thing_ , as you put it, with Buffy and Spike. When we spoke, I relayed some of the details of the situation because I needed you to provide accurate leads. Spike was of no help in that regard. But this was not a cry for your intervention. We can deal with Spike. And frankly, I won’t be party to another of your clandestine visits.”

Uncomfortable and unsure how to proceed, Angel shoved his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched. “I’m not here to intervene…well, I am, but – ” he trailed off. “Look, there’s a lot I didn’t tell you. Probably shouldn’t tell you.”

Giles took a deep breath and sat down, waving his hand for Angel to do the same. “Do you have information on why Spike is able to reproduce?”

“Not exactly,” Angel hedged, taking a seat on the sofa.

He sighed again. “Then what exactly did you not tell me?” Apparently, Spike wasn’t the only vampire with an uncanny ability to try Giles’ patience.

Angel tented his fingers and gazed down through them. “Spike wasn’t the only person Buffy had sex with recently.”

It took a few seconds for that to sink in, but it did, as did ire. “You?” Giles asked, leaning forward. 

Angel nodded sheepishly and then was startled by how quickly the other man was across the room wielding a crossbow. “Wait!” he yelled too late as the bow was released and sailing toward him in a blink. Luckily for him, vampire reflexes were faster than a blink and he twisted and caught the arrow before it penetrated too deeply. Snarling and gamefaced, Angel rushed him and snatched the weapon from Giles and tossed it to the floor. “Don’t try that again.” He yanked the arrow from his shoulder with a wince.

“You’ve lost your soul?”

“No!” Angel whined. “I’m not evil. But I’m getting a little pissed off here.” He put pressure on the wound and sat back down, letting the demon melt away. “I was human for a day. Turned by the blood of a Mohra.”

“I’ve heard of them, assassins correct?”

“Yeah and someone sent it after me when Buffy was there last month. Long story short we fought it, some if its blood got in a cut on my hand and presto chango, I’m real boy.” 

At this Giles’ curiosity kicked in and he relaxed slightly, willing at least to listen. He also thought this scenario was a ruse to tedious even for Angelus. This had to be Angel, but he remained watchful. “And I can guess at the rest. But you’re not human now.”

Smiling ruefully, Angel glanced away. “Now that’s a long story longer.”

“Well, I was just going to wrap a few presents and I have a bit of scotch that Spike didn’t manage to steal. Why don’t you explain while I work?” 

~~~*~~~


	6. Chapter Six

Joyce waved goodbye as she backed out of the driveway, the cargo of her SUV filled with little appetizers and desserts she had made for the holiday reception at her gallery. Spike had agreed to help her prepare the scones, but only if she promised never to tell a soul. Crippled as he was, he still had a reputation to uphold and baking Christmas treats did not help. 

Spike closed the door and took an inventory of his surroundings. A vampire thing, he supposed, he was completely aware of everything around him at all times…until he wasn’t. Which was usually after polishing off a bottle or two. But tonight he was a sober demon, thanks to some good conversation and a sense of purpose, and felt like relaxing. A definite change from his constant urge for violence.

The mood he was in, tea held appeal so his first order of business was to make a pot and he poured himself a mug before dropping onto the sofa, remote in hand. He flipped through the channels rapidly, scowling at the vast amount of nothingness on the television before stopping on a black and white show…Bewitched.   
How fitting.

Because of a little bewitching, he was going to be a father. It was as unsettling as it was perplexing. And research had turned up diddly squat, making him feel helpless to this unknown, but not necessarily undesired fate. He didn’t wish for this, never in a million years would it have crossed his mind, but now the possibility held interest. It also made him want to get out of this god forsaken town with the little bit of dignity he still had. Before he became a sappy parent for some human spawn. Or worse, a horrible parent. 

And how could he ever explain this to Dru?

Frustrated, Spike tossed the remote down and let his head fall back against the sofa cushions. “What the bloody hell have you gotten yourself into now?” he asked himself and was declining to answer when the doorbell rang. Startled, he jumped up, senses immediately on high as felt his kind and stalked to the entryway.

He knew who it was and as he unlocked the door he wondered if the invite had ever been revoked. He seriously doubted it, but opened it anyway and greeted his sire.

“Angel.”

Angel stepped inside, looming over Spike and overtly sniffing him up. “We need to talk.”

Spike retreated into the house, grabbing his coat. “What could have dragged you from your caped-crusade?” he asked while searching the pockets for his cigarettes. He knew better than to smoke inside, Joyce had been very firm about that, but he also knew that Angel wouldn’t start anything within these walls. Just because he liked a little violence in his day didn’t mean he enjoyed being the victim of it.

“Where’s Buffy,” Angel replied, following Spike into the living room. 

“Don’t know. Not her bleeding mum, am I?” 

Angel surveyed the room. Not much had changed since he was last here. Except for the scent of Spike all over every last inch of this house. He clenched his fist and turned to face the blond.

“Let’s take a walk.” He picked up Spike’s coat and threw it at him. He wasn’t going to have Joyce tear him a new one by beating Spike down in her home. “Now.”

Spike raised an eyebrow and settled into the couch. “I’m fine right here, Peaches.” He picked up the remote.

“Wow. This is new,” Angel laughed and crossed his arms. “Never knew you to hide behind a women.”

“Never knew you to care about what I did.” Spike didn’t bother to look up from the antics of cousin Serena.

Angel maneuvered to stand in front of the set, blocking Spike’s view. “When you hurt what’s mine, I care.”

“Oh didn’t her hurt,” Spike smirked and added, “Well, I did when she asked me to.”

Predictably, Angel’s big hand was immediately around his throat, the other gripping his chin and for second Spike thought he was going to kiss him. That was how it started between them often enough. Violence that shifted into something else, equally passionate and destructive, but infinitely more satisfying. Instead he was yelling in Spike’s face. “Don’t talk about her like that!” 

“So you _don’t_ want to hear how tight and sweet her hot little cunny was when she jumped me the first of many times?”

Angel banged his head back, but it was pretty ineffectual against the couch cushions. “You’re sick and twist and will not touch her ever again,” he hissed, spittle hanging from his bottom lip.

Undeterred, Spike whispered, “And you’re hard.”

He stopped, releasing Spike as he straightened up, hating his body’s reaction to Spike. “Be glad I don’t stake your ass.” 

Rolling his eyes, Spike could not believe how easy Angel was. “Yeah, well, been there, done that.”

“That’s not what I meant! Why are you always fucking up?”

Spike frowned up at him. “How’s this my fault? You want to point that fat Mick finger of yours at someone, try Red. Was her sodding mojo running amok that started all this.”

Running a hand down his face, Angel did his best not to growl or change faces. Logically, what Spike said was true, but demon to demon, Buffy was his, not Spike’s and no magic changed that. Now because of a cruel twist of fate, she was pregnant with his child, but Spike was going to get the credit for it. Unless he confessed to Buffy about the day she’d forgotten, Spike was going to be the father of his kid.

Have Buffy hate him or have Spike raise his child to hate him. His options really sucked.


	7. Chapter Seven

Buffy strolled toward downtown, her breath tiny white puffs, as she admired the holiday lights that adorned the streets. It never snowed, except for her miracle last year, but sometimes it got bitingly cold. This was one of those times, befitting her icy mood.

Time with Willow had been pleasant, the girl talk doing her some good, even though the subject invariably kept going back to her current dilemma. She laughed at that. Current wasn’t the accurate word really. Because if she went through with this, as she was inclined to do at the moment, this was going to be a lifelong commitment…linking her to _Spike_ forever. That thought was enough to make her run directly to an abortion clinic to get it out of her before it was too late. 

But then she thought of how fortunate she was, considering. The average life span for a slayer throughout recorded history was eight months. That was it. So a girl got chosen and might not ever see her next birthday. And if she was old enough to have a kid, she certainly might not live long enough to carry a baby full term. Who was she to look this blessing of life in the mouth and reject it?

Wasn’t she responsible for enough death? A chance to bring something beautiful into the world was a gift.

A surge of moviegoers exited the theater, pulling Buffy from her thoughts as a few brushed her shoulder in passing. She slowed and did her job. Checking for vampires, she scanned the street, this being prime hunting ground for the undead, but the area was tingle-free so she moved along, more alert, but still in a mood as she turned the corner and walked in to her mother’s place of business. Jazzy Christmas music and warm cinnamon-scented air enveloped Buffy and she immediately removed her jacket. 

Joyce stood with an older couple, smiling and talking while sipping hot cider. She was enjoying the conversation but her smile only widened upon seeing Buffy. She excused herself and crossed the room, casually nodding to her guests.

“Buffy, I’m so glad you stopped by. How was girl’s night with Willow?” she asked, leading her over to the table where the food was set up.

Buffy shrugged. “It was cool. You know Willow’s still having a hard time about Oz so we talked a lot guy troubles.” It wasn’t a complete lie, but Buffy, if nothing else, had learned to prevaricate with the best of them. She glanced around. “Good turn-out, huh?”

“Yes, it is.” Joyce scanned the room as well, seeming pleased as she poured a cup of hot cider and handed it to Buffy. “You need to warm up. Oh, and the Mayor came earlier. He said he’d heard good things about the gallery and wanted to ask me about being more active in the Chamber of Commerce,” she reported, enthused.

“That’s great, Mom! Are you going to do it?” 

“Well, I’ll have to see what _more active_ entails before I commit, but I’m not saying no.”

Buffy sipped her drink and snatched up a sugary treat. “Cool,” she said, chewing and then added. “These are yummy Christmassy Goodness.” She grabbed another. “Since when do you make scones?”

“Oh, just a sec, Buffy. I think Adele is having a little trouble with Mr. Phynes,” she deflected smoothly and started toward her assistant.

“Go on, do the business woman thing.” Buffy swallowed the last of her cider in one gulp and tossed her cup in the garbage.

Joyce glanced back at her daughter. “Are you staying?”

Buffy shook her head. “Nah. I can go, you know, _hang out_ , and I’ll be back to help you clean up. Is that cool?”

“That’s fine. We’re going to wrap it up at 11:30.”

“Okay. Let’s synchronize our watches,” she grinned at her mother’s indulgent smile, before donning her jacket and heading back out into the cold.

~~~*~~~

Angel wanted to talk. Spike felt the world tilt off its axis because that was an odd thing for sure. He and Angelus hadn’t had an exchange of pleasantries since before he’d run off crying with his guilt-ridden soul. And he and Angel had spoken, mostly with fangs and cock, that one time after he and Drusilla first arrived in Sunnydale, but that was it.

After interrogating Spike extensively regarding his part during the whole wedding fiasco, Angel had become chatty. That all by itself was enough to give Spike a serious case of the _wiggins_ , to quote a Scooby. But he seemed to be testing him, asking the younger vampire about things he had never once really cared to know when they had both been evil.

Furtively, Spike almost enjoyed the attention. Having Angel or Angelus express any type of interest in how he felt about anything was a very rare thing. In his experience, only Drusilla, and of late to a certain degree Joyce Summers, had ever shown concern for the blond. And like it or not, this left him open to being overly receptive to the smallest bit of consideration. The demon in him resented it fiercely, making Spike feel out of sorts so all he could do was listen and try to shut off any visual clues that the older demon might pick up on and use against him. Nothing made him happier than when the topic shifted to Angel’s favorite these days, helping the bloody loser hopeless.

And for the last half hour, his sire had being going on and on about his mission in Los Angeles and his little human minions and how the other Mick, Doyle with the Spine, had died a hero.

And hadn’t Himself seemed about to cry for one hilarious moment?

Now he was on the subject of some watcher named Wesley Something Stuffy, whom Spike insisted on accidentally referring to as Wussy, who was fast proving to be a valuable member of the team, even if he seemed to be a little odd.

Spike laughed at that. “You’re calling someone odd? Bit of the Pot and the Kettle, isn’t it?”  
“I’m not saying it’s a problem, it’s just, well I think he’s got a crush on me,” Angel whispered this last part.

Spike rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “That’s just like you, thinking the world’s falling at your feet, waiting to idolize your poncy arse.”

“I seemed to remember you at my feet, _idolizing_ , on many occasions.” Angel gave him a stare.

Shifting, Spike snorted. “Yeah, well, didn’t know any better, did I?”

Angel took a deep breath, nostrils flaring. “And do you know any better now?”

This was getting pretty weird and Spike froze, gazing for a long few seconds before lifting an eyebrow. “Are you on drugs?”

The phone rang.

Spike glanced at the clock, brow furrowed. It was almost one in the morning so he answered when he normally wouldn’t have bothered. “Summer’s House of Porno Pleasure,” he greeted with an instant grin, figuring to get his evil in where he could. Angel’s obvious disapproval only made him happier, until… “Oh, um…hello Joyce.” He gulped. “Yeah, sorry about that. Just joking around is all.” He leaned against the fireplace mantel. “No, haven’t seen her since she left this afternoon…” As he listened, tension flooded him and he became rigid, his skin suddenly looking as hard as it actually was. “Okay, don’t panic. Did she say where she was going…Bloody Hell! Just don’t move. Stay there in case she shows, but lock up. I’m going to search for her right now.” They spoke a while longer, excitedly, worriedly, and then hung up.

“I take it you heard everything?” He walked past Angel.

Angel nodded grimly, watching as Spike shrugged into that long leather and opened the weapons chest. He selected two stakes and an axe. Angel reached in and chose Buffy’s favorite sword. “Guess we’re finally going to take that walk.”

“Guess so,” he agreed, solemnly and a bit angry about having to go hunt for a girl that he was certain he had wanted to kill less than two weeks ago. “But don’t get any funny ideas. This isn’t a date.”

~~~*~~~~


End file.
